


Dog Fight

by Tht0neGal666



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Animal Abuse, Brothers, Dog Fighting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:41:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12851061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tht0neGal666/pseuds/Tht0neGal666





	Dog Fight

. Damian Wayne had seen plenty of messed up stuff in his life. 

He could even go one further, and admit that he had Done plenty of messed up stuff in his life.

He was getting better, though. He learned to pull his punches enough to not actually kill or maim or permanently scar/disfigure/disable the scum of Gotham, for the most part. There were still those unlucky few who managed to dig under his skin, those particularly horrible things that even he hadn’t done and never planned to.

Those nights were more filled with gritted teeth and old techniques and going to Colin’s place to shower so he didn’t show up at the Manor or the Cave covered in blood and avoiding the gaze of his father and wrestling between relief and anger when the news announced whether the offender had survived.

But, those nights were rew and far between nowadays, he was proud to state. He hadn’t had one such night in nearly a month now, and he hadn’t fought with Drake seriously in half that time. Both of those things were record setting for him, and he couldn’t help the spike of pride at the thought.

As a reward, his father had given him a bit of a looser leash on patrol, and he intended to take full advantage of it. He had just gotten into costume and went over to the tiny corner of Gotham he had been assigned for the entire night.

He could tell himself that he wasn’t excited by it, that he was promised the entire league of assassins nearly since birth, that he’d have all of Gotham one day as well, that this small street really didn’t matter much. But, he wasn’t the biggest fan of lying when he didn’t have to. And he felt no need to lie about this, to himself at least. 

He had finished his home-lesson for the day with far more energy than was strictly needed and hours before his normal bored drawl allowed him to. He dressed himself up and stared at himself in the mirror until he was able to suppress his excitement enough to get the ridiculous giddy smile off of his face. Robin doesn’t smile like that. If any of his family saw him, they’d assume it was Joker Gas or something. 

With a huff he finally fixed his expression into his usual scowl, and informed Pennyworth that he was headed out as he left.

He was excited to prove himself, and refused to let the opportunity go to waste.

Sadly, things in his life tend to go awry and nothing was ever quite that easy.

****

The night started peacefully enough. That should have been his first clue that tonight would end badly.

A Minor robbery was the highlight of his night nearly an hour into his watch. The night was oddly silent, and not just of crime. It felt like nobody was home, like there was a place for people to be and everyone was there.

But, that couldn’t be right. He had heard through the comms that no one else was having such a slow night. There were no big presentations or special concerts or anything of the sort. Nothing had happened recently enough to put everyone on such high alert, even by Gotham’s standards.

But, he wouldn’t complain. It was just a bit of boredom. It wasn’t a game, it wasn’t supposed to be fun in the first place, he reminded himself. Maybe Batman gave him a quiet place to test his fortitude and ability to control himself. Or something of the sort.

So, he stayed silently perched above his section, eyes watching for anything unusual. His heart melted when he saw the dog.

There was a small puppy limping out of an alleyway. Warning bells rang in his head, but the youngest Wayne didn’t care as he swept down to check the animal out, and almost heaved.

There were scratches and bite marks all over the dog, each fresh and bleeding. One of her legs looked like it had been chewed on viciously, and now was limp and unusable. One of the dogs eyes had been all but clawed out, bulging and turned to only see the white of it. 

Damian let out a growl of pure anger, chewing the inside of his cheek. He would make sure the abuser paid for this. But first, he had to find the dog a clinic. 

He knew the city quite well by now, and went to the nearest clinic in only a few minutes, only to be met by a sign:

“Not open on Fight Nights.”

It was a simple sentence, and Damian wasn’t stupid. His anger spiked again, joined by dread this time as he ran back to where he had found the dog. 

It was very quiet, and took a moment of wandering to hear, but once he did it was loud and clear. The cheers and demands for blood and the mob mentality begging for a good fight.

He didn’t think twice about entering the horrid space, after, of course, performing basic first aid for the poor pooch. He headed inside with a wrathful anger written on his face. Determined face set, he stormed into the hidden Dog-Fight ring.

He was met with the stench of liquor and blood and rust and grit and dirt and sweat and honestly it was disgusting. He wanted to cover his nose, but shook his head as there were more pressing matters to attend to. 

He pulled up his hoodie, crossed his arms over his Robin insignia, and blended into the crowd with the expert practice of someone who had done as much for years.

That is, until, He saw the ring itself. It was spotted with blood that smelled a little...off. It wasn’t human. It was animal blood, and the creatures were coated in it as they bled and growled ferally and fought as who he could only assume were the trainers egged them on with proddles whenever they stopped.

He recognized it for what it was; a fight to the death. And he had no tolerance for it.

It was lucky that the room was so loud and chaotic, because no one heard him as he let out a more primal growl then the two dogs and lunged at the woman counting money and watching. The ringleader.

He almost went for the throat but remembered better at the last moment and gave her a punch to the face, spitting a curse into her eyes and drawing the shinai that his father had insisted he use instead of the Katana he prefered, but it mattered little really. Any weapon in his hands could be deadly.

He remembered wacking her arm and hearing a satisfying crack and yelp of pain, and then a shout of anger from behind him, and then some guy he flipped because the dude tried to pull Damian off, and then it was a blurry mess of red and anger and fighting and a need to win and asking himself why he didn’t do this more often, unleashing his anger like this was almost cathartic and these guys deserved it and-

A new red. A different shade. And then, and then suddenly he wasn’t winning anymore. He was thrown to the side, and couldn’t get over the shock of one of those Fools getting the best of him enough to actually get back up and fight again-

And it wasn’t one of them, thankfully. That would be humiliating. No, instead, the Red Hood had thrown him to the side, finished finished with the cronies, tied the ring leader, and called batman. Damian gaped in shock, and Todd reached out to help him to his feet and instead Damian twisted the man's arm out of his habit of self defense. Jason gritted his teeth and escaped, stepping back and raising his hands in defeat.

“Fine kid, no touchie. I’m more than fine with that. Follow me, before Bats gets here.” Jason shrugged, less of an order and more of an offer. Damian swallowed and nodded, trailing after Jason into the cold, refreshing night air and onto a nearby building.

****  
Jason Todd was Angry.

He had gotten a tip off from a friend that there was a Dog Fight ring operating on saturdays like tonight, and the location seemed familiar, wait was that where Bats had assigned the brat the other day? On a saturday? And-

And it all fit together, and Jason had dismissed the informant before giving a punch hard enough to break his hand to a nearby wooden door because Bruce was always an ass, but this was just Cruel.

Jason knew Batman, far better than he really wanted to. So he knew what he was doing, even if he didn’t want to. Bruce was setting up Robin, as some sort of test. Take something that’ll make the boy extra mad, set him loose alone, see if he’s controlled enough to reign himself in and leave the fuckers alive.

But it just wasn’t Fair. It wasn’t fair that they treated the kid like some time bomb, and it sucked, and Jason knew that because they treated him the same, and he had to Leave. 

He ran out of the warehouse in his Red Hood uniform, jumping on his bike and riding down to the area with a chorus of him cursing out the bat echoing through his head. He kept himself calm by imagining exactly how the conversation would go.

“I thought he could handle it. It isn't a difficult job. He wasn't in danger.”

“his wacko mother scarred him enough, You asshat. He doesn't need to add the trauma of watching one of the only things he cares about literally kill each other.”

And then Bruce would try to make excuses, and Jason would punch him and break his nose.

A man could dream.

He got there quickly, probably breaking Roys record of Traffic Laws Broken in ten minutes. He'd have to count it up later, he'd been trying to beat his score for a week.

He shook his head of the thought, putting it on a back burner and storming in.

It was a bloodbath. There were tons of guys littering the floor, and Jason could only hope they hadn't died. Not that he cared about the criminals themselves, at all. He'd kill them without batting an eye, for what they were doing. But, Damian was trying to stop, and Jason couldn't deal with the boy if he had killed someone.

He noticed the boy himself, standing over a woman sputtering apologies and damian raised the Shinai and that position was obviously lethal, and Jason pushed the boy aside.

He couldn't let the boy do that to himself. 

Instead, reluctantly, he played Bruce’s game. He tied the woman up, made sure everyone was breathing, gave an extra kick to the guys who were breathing to easily, and called dick. He said that he had fought the guys with Dakian, and they'd give a full report later. He was thankful the place lacked cameras. 

He tried talking to the brat but he wasn't respond, so Jason tapped the boy’s shoulder and before hs knew it his joints were locked and yeah, that was kinda fair.

He slipped out of it with years of experience, rubbing his wrist and nonchalantly leading the boy outside. He followed, and Jason smiled a bit.

Robin pulled at his sleeve stiffly and waved at a loosely patched up dog, obviously to tired to talk. Jason nodded and left both the beast and the boy to his motorcycle and then to one of his less known store houses so they'd have time before the bat came, if he even did. 

Kason opened his mouth to rant about the bat and inform the boy just how much his father sucked, but he stopped himself for once.

Because he already knew. The boy's eyes were dull of realization and shame and fuck that.

Jason pulled an orangesicle from the freezer and handed it to Damian, who scowled slightly but took it with a thankful nod as he ate it.

“you didn't kill anyone.” Jason assured and, wow, this was weird on so many levels. When was he do caring anyway? He'd think it over later. 

Damian nodded, a bit thoughtful, and relaxed a little and Jason shrugged.

“thought you'd wanna know. Stay for dinner?” he offered, and Damian nodded. Jason turned to cook only to realise someone had eaten through their supplies, since his lady being here, leaving only a box of pancake batter that was stuffed on the high shelf. 

He made the food and Damian scowled. “no nutritional value.” damian sighed, sounding an odd mix of curious and disappointed. 

Together, Jason thought, they could be a nightmare. But, they wouldn't be. Not for a long time.

For now, they could just be brothers. Jason could take the fall for roughing up the club and Damian would draw him a picture. Sure, the normal offences for an older sibling to take blame for was smaller than beating multiple grown men to near death, and the average painting wasn't a victorian tier portrait.

But, maybe, they could be brothers. They had enough in common, like a mutual need for petty revenge on Bruce


End file.
